It Takes All Types
by Rostand
Summary: Dealing with life after Jean. Preslash, hopefully developing soon into full-blown slash. Rogue gets disowned, then adopted, and there's a dangerous new activist group out for mutant blood. New chapter added! We're back and slashier than ever!
1. Part I

It Takes All Types: Part I It Takes All Types **Kauri **

Author's Note: Hugs and pocky to Karma, who typed this all up from scrawls on various bits of paper for me. This is all inspired by the movie _X2_, and that incredibly slashy little scene between Scott and Logan after Jean gets Deep Blued. And then it kind of ballooned. Right now, it's just preslash, but expect it to get a whole lot slashier. I would also like to clarify the fact that there is, never has been, nor ever will be sexual tension between Logan and Rogue. That is all. 

It began as simple comfort. Two wounded soldiers clinging together for a ray of hope on a devastated battlefield. 

On the day of the Accident, that changed. 

*** 

Sleep was generally considered to be optional for the staff and students of Xavier's School for the Gifted – and the by the iterant professor of art. 

Logan almost tossed. He certainly turned, to glare witheringly at the bedside clock, the infuriating green numbers pulsing 2:37 at him without regard to the look that would have melted adamantium levelled at it. Logan rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. He hasn't slept in days and the strain was beginning to show on even him. Every time he closed his eyes, a face would form behind his eyelids, a face that would jolt him awake within minutes. A woman's face. Two women, actually. One, the silent mutant who had fought with such ferocity – and who the Wolverine had stilled with a vat of adamantium. The other, short spunky hair and eyes that glittered with humour and intelligence. Jean Gray. 

Three weeks had passed since the waters of Alkali Lake closed over her head. The day after, Scott had returned in vain hope her body may be found. Without a trace. But life went on. Went on well, actually. The president had delivered his national address – not the anti-mutant message he had written, but an impassioned plea from the heart that mutants be accepted. He spoke of hope and rebuilding of trust. 

Logan wasn't sold. He knew it would be a long, hard battle, one he didn't know how to fight. And that scared him in a way he hadn't thought possible. 

Tormented by his own treacherous brain, Logan snarled in frustration and rolled out of bed, landing lightly on his feet. He prowled down the hallway, ostensibly to check on the sleeping students, but really to occupy his own sleepless hours. He came to a stop outside Rogue's room without realizing where his feet were taking him. 

Rogue. 

That infuriating, wilful, stubborn little girl. The kid sister he might have had. Logan's mind dredged up a fleeting memory: Mystique briefly taking the girl's form to seduce him. He shuddered at the memory. He raised a hand to knock, but thought better of it. He opened the door slightly, just enough to see Rogue as she slept, moonlight lying in bars across her form. Long white gloves lay folded on her bedside table. The white streak in her hair glowed luminescent in the moonlight. Logan stood there silently for a long moment. He felt sorry for her sometimes – doomed to live without human contact. Logan snorted. Sometimes he thought that same doom was laid upon him. A quote grew into his mind: "As two spent swimmers that do cling together and choke their art." He didn't know its source or why it was in his brain, but he had long since accepted that his memories were far more extensive than he knew. 

As Rogue lay there, she made a small sound and shifted in her sleep, and Logan felt a need to smooth her hair back and sooth her into sleep. But the moment passed, and Rogue settled. Logan sighed and stepped away, letting the door close softly behind him. 

He padded through the sleeping school, heading in the vague direction of the kitchen. He stepped into the darkened room and went for the fridge. He opened it and stared into the illuminated depths for a long while before closing it. 

"There is beer," a voice said from the doorway. Logan whirled, claws unsheathing as he did. They retracted as Logan processed the voice and the faint light reflecting off sunglasses. His throat worked, but all that came out was "Where?" 

"Behind the oatmeal," Scott replied. Logan shot him a look and investigated. A false back gave way to a row of bottles. Logan grabbed two and replaced the board and incumbent oatmeal. When he turned around again, Scott had gone. Curious, Logan padded out into the hallway. Flickers of light caught his eye and he found the other mutant on a couch in the common room, curled around a tub of Cherry Garcia, as cartoons played on mute before him. Wordlessly, he curled tighter, indicating that Logan could sit down. He hesitated a moment and complied, stretching out with his feet up on the coffee table. He took a long drink of beer and watched the cartoon carnage. 

"Does that help any?" he asked, after a long silence, indicating the half-empty tub. 

"Not really," Scott replied. "Does that?" 

The sky was lightening when they spoke again. Scott got up, threw out the empty ice cream container and threw a wave over his shoulder as he headed for the stairs. "G'night." 

Logan just shook his head and went to get changed before Storm saw him and gave him the evil eye. Wandering around a co-ed school shirtless was most definitely on her list of Things Not To Do. And Logan was hesitant to gain his own personal storm-cloud following him around. 

*** 

Life continued, as life does: quietly, without flagging. Days melted into weeks, weeks to months, spring became summer became fall. Nothing much changed on the human-mutant relation front. A few among the students volunteered to appear at a national debate a few months after the president's first address. Kitty, Colossus, and Bobby were among them, along with a host of the smaller, cuter children. Rogue would have gone, but the intent was to give a demonstration of the beneficial aspects of mutant abilities. There had been oohs and ahhs as Kitty walked through the podium and frost appeared on the walls, but nothing changed. The debate still raged over mutant registration and controls. 

Logan hated politics. It made his skin itch. His claws, too. 

Something good did come of it, however. Bobby's parents had come to visit the school. Xavier and Bobby, with Rogue in tow, gave them the grand tour. They met all the teachers and the older residents. Unfortunately, Kurt made his appearance in his normal manner when summoned, with a _bampf_ and a poof of blue smoke. Bobby's mother almost fainted. Kurt was profuse in his apologies and turned on all of his charm. 

To their credit, they dealt with the reality of life at the school. People running through walls, zooming by at superspeed, and a little boy playing with lightning. Logan watched the visit with welled amusement. They left slightly shell-shocked but still standing. 

And every night, there were Logan, Scott, a few bottles of beer, and a tub of cherry chocolate ice cream. Sometimes they talked, and sometimes they sat in silence. Scott told Logan about when he was a kid and how he found his powers. Logan told him about wandering the Rockies to the Bay of Fundy. They talked about Jean. 

It was a funny thing. Speaking, words of memory from dry throats, tears making glistening trails down cheeks, it felt good. A lifted weight. Fears, doubts, guilt melted under sorrow and comfort. They even slept: fitfully, yes, sporadically, yes, but sleep none the less. 

Kurt found them one Sunday morning, looking for a snack after Matins. Logan was sprawled, half on the couch and feet up. Scott was slumped against him, both sound asleep. Two faint _bampf_s sounded in the common room and bottles and tubs were cleaned up. When Storm came down an hour later, she sleepily asked why he was grinning. The only reply she got was a wink and a broader grin. 

Storm shook her head at his back as he skipped around the kitchen, humming "Lift High the Cross" and jumping occasionally. He was, as some would say, a queer duck. Most mutants, especially the more different one, had turned their back on God as having deserted them. Kurt's faith burned more brightly than anything Storm had seen. She didn't like the deeply religious. They annoyed her. But Kurt didn't. He lived his faith quietly, without intruding on anyone's sensibilities. Despite being blue with three fingers and a tail, he was amazingly discrete. He was a great favourite among the younger children, and even begun a Sunday school of sorts. Xavier had already approached him about teaching German to the older students. He was fitting in well. 

Or so everyone thought. But Storm had found him perched on a weathervane, staring east with setting sun behind him. She alighted on the roof behind him. He didn't turn, but his tail flicked in acknowledgement of her presence. She sat delicately beside him, legs crossed, as he crouched with his arms resting lightly on his knees. 

"I should miss Munich," he had said at last. "But I don't. I have never had a home before. Not even there." His tail flicked up, and trailed along her arm. "Now, I can finally rest." 

Storm's heart had thrilled, but dampened again when he had added, "I hope." 

She remembered that as she turned on the coffee maker. The furry blue guy seemed to have no need for the sparkplug of humanity. Same with the Professor. . . he drank it out of courtesy, but never seemed to need it to wake up. 

"Seen Logan or Scott yet?" she asked a while later, when the java had kick-started her synaptic relays. 

Something sounding suspiciously like a snicker escaped Kurt. "I think they are still in bed," he said, humour lacing his voice. If it hadn't been the morning, she would have been deeply suspicious. As it was, she only shrugged it off. 

Rogue staggered in, rubbing her eyes. She slumped into a chair and gave a huge yawn. Kurt disappeared abruptly from beside the stove and reappeared by the table. Rogue jumped, but Kurt just smiled and offered a plate of pancakes. 

"Oh, Nightcrawler, I love you," she half-sighed, half-moaned as half a syrup-laden pancake disappeared into her mouth. 

"Hey, what about me?" Storm mock-pouted as she set down glasses and orange juice and milk on the table. Kurt appeared, handed her a plate with a flourish, and went back to cooking. 

Meals at the school went in shifts. When you were hungry, you came down, ate, and left, anytime until lessons began at 10, except weekends, when there was a more or less open schedule. It worked well. Another student walked in and forewent the pancakes for oatmeal. Kitty came in and gave Kurt a hug for pancakes. A short while later Kurt _bampf_ed out with a tray for the Professor. 

Rogue looked up and smiled as Bobby walked in, rubbing his eyes. A smile lit up his face immediately when he saw her. Storm hid a grin behind her coffee mug as they exchanged a quick kiss. She wasn't quite sure what mechanics allowed the skin contact, but she had her suspicions concerning a thin layer of ice and some creative tongue action may provide an explanation of sorts. 

"Good morning," he murmured, slipping into the seat beside her, ignoring Kitty's squawk of protest as she sank through the table and relocated to another chair. 

"Good morning to you," she replied, entwining her gloved fingers in his. 

"Now what is this delicious mess that you've scarfed without me?" He asked lightly, gesturing at the syrup and crumbs now inhabiting her plate. 

"Nightcrawler made pancakes," Rogue said. "I'd have saved some, but who knows when you'd roll out of bed on a Sunday morning, lazy," she teased. 

"Oh, I'm lazy?" he said, mock-hurt. "How about you, you little - " 

_bampf_! "Guten morgen, herr Iceman," Kurt said civilly. "Would you like some as well?" 

"Yes, thank you." 

"Can I have some more, please?" Rogue pulled the Oliver Twist eyes. 

"Mmph," Kitty swallowed. "Me too!" 

_Bampf_! _Bampf_! _Bampf_! 

"You're like Emeril," Storm said, grinning. "Let's kick it up a notch! _Bampf_!" 

"Ha _bampf_ ha ha," Kurt said, disappearing and reappearing directly before her. He dropped more pancakes on her plate, gave her a wet smack on the nose, and relocated to the ceiling to eat his own. 

Rogue laughed as Storm spluttered and shook her fist at the grinning Nightcrawler. "You're in a good mood this morning, Kurt." 

"I saw something amusing this morning," he said. "I haven't laughed so hard in my life." He sat there, snickering quietly to himself while everyone shook their heads at him. 

Later that morning, Rogue and Bobby were sitting as close as they could on top of the picnic bench (another item on Storm's list), watching a pickup game of basketball. 

"Bobby. . ." Rogue said, leaning her head on his shoulder. 

"Mmmhm?" 

"I was. . . I mean, I thought. . ." 

"Rogue, what is it?" It wasn't like her to stutter. 

"It's just. . . I saw you, and your family, and I thought. . . Why would you stay with a girl you can't even touch?" 

Bobby turned and grabbed both of her hands. She looked down, avoiding his eyes. He lifted one hand, hesitated, and firmly lifted her chin to look at him. He took his fingers away slowly before feeling the draw of her ability. He looked her directly in the eye and rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. "I don't want another girl that I can touch. I want you." 

She looked down, but his voice drew her eyes back up at him. "Look at me," he said, trying to make the truth of what he was saying apparent in his eyes. "Rogue, I can cuddle you, I can hug you. I can see and hear and talk to you. I love you. I love all of you. I don't care about the other stuff. I care about you." 

He saw the tears glistening on her cheeks and longed to wipe them away. But if he touched her now and was sucked dry, it would only drive her argument home. She decided for him, burying her face in his shoulder. She wrapped her arms around his waist as her shoulders shook from silent sobs. He smoothed her hair down and rested his cheek on her head as he rocked her back and forth until the storm of weeping had passed. Rogue pulled back, wiping inefficiently at the damp patch on his shirt. Bobby gently removed her hand and held it. 

"I'm sorry," she sighed. "I thought. . . once you remembered there was a normal world out there, you'd want a normal girl." She half-smiled. "Guess I was wrong." 

Bobby smiled and gave her a quick one-armed hug. "C'mon, I gotta change shirts. Then we can go work on that history paper for Storm." 

She gave a wet snicker. "You mean I'll write your paper for you." 

"But of course," he said, hopping off the picnic table and offering her a hand down. When she stood on the grass, he used that hand to pull her close. He said seriously, "I mean it. No worries." 

She nodded mutely and followed him into the main school building. Logan watched them go from the window of Xavier's study. He felt an irrational jealousy over the bond between the two young mutants, and a strange mistrust of Bobby. A tiny voice in his brain was screaming at him to take over the comforting, to make sure that Rogue was feeling okay. This new mixture of emotion was irritating. 

"Logan," Xavier's voice called his mind back to the room, and he turned to the rest. Storm was standing by the desk, and Scott was leaning against the doorframe. Kurt was perched on the large ornamental fireplace, and the Professor was seated behind his desk. 

"Something must be done," the Professor growled in his normal tone. "Over the past several months, efforts have been made to better relations However, I am still worried about Stryker's crew." He steepled his fingers. "Even without him and the Alkali Lake base, I am certain that his group, and many others, are still on the warpath for us." He sighed. "As much as I hate to admit it, the school has been compromised. I am unwilling to abandon it, but the students are not safe here." 

Logan started forward, mouth open in protest, but Professor X raised a hand to stop him. "Yes, I know Logan. You managed to protect the students while they made their escape, but 8 were captured." He sighed again. "I don't want to be caught unaware like that." He lifted his head. "Scott. Can you adapt the proximity sensors from the compound to erect a security perimeter around the grounds and the school as well?" Scott nodded silently. "Logan, Storm, I want you to work on adapting the Danger Room weaponry to set up a perimeter security." Two nods of assent. The Professor sighed. "I don't like doing this, not only for the image that we would be sending to the humans, but the safety of the students must be taken first." 

"Some of the students won't see it that way," Logan put in. "They might think that they're being caged in." 

"We could get them to help," Storm said. 

"Continue," Professor X gestured. 

"Well, some of the students have electric or metallic powers," she said. "And others would be willing to help. It would be a huge task." 

"Good idea," the Professor mused. "Any ideas as to who?" 

As they discussed logistics, Logan zoned out. He glanced over at Scott and caught him in an unguarded moment. The optically enhanced mutant had pushed his sunglasses up over the bridge of his nose and was rubbing the corners of his closed eyes. Huge dark shadows stretched under his eyes, normally hidden by the glasses, marring the smooth lines of his face. Abruptly, he removed his hand and the glasses thumped back into place. Logan looked away hurriedly and found himself, for the first time, wondering what colour his eyes were. 

The conversation shifted again, drawing his attention back in. ". . .I will alert the older students," the Professor was saying. "Also, I've been meaning to ask you all. . . I hope Magneto is wrong, but if a war is brewing, we must be prepared." His eyes gained a far-away look. "John was promising. . . but we've lost him to Magneto. I wish to begin training some of the older students." He paused. "Most specifically Iceman and Rogue." 

Logan surged forward. "Rogue, no, she's - " 

"Logan," the Professor said warningly, and he settled somewhat. "I know you want to protect her, but she would help us. You saw her pilot the jet. She has courage, and a rare gift." 

Logan glared at him, and he looked back levelly. Logan looked away first, folding his arms and turning away to face the window. There was a silence, then the Professor continued, "Storm, see if you can. . ." 

As they discussed details, Cyclops watched Logan from behind the sunglasses. He felt the waves of emotion pouring off the rigid figure by the window, and the inner whirrings and clanks as things readjusted and moved in his mind. To be continued . . . 


	2. Part II

It Takes All Types: Part II It Takes All Types **Kauri **

Part II: Wherein Scott Reveals a Secret and Logan Visits the Library and Goes Shopping 

In the flickering light from _Scooby-Doo_, Scott watched his fellow insomniac from behind a raised spoon. He was unnaturally silent and withdrawn, his first beer half-drunk and forgotten in his hand. 

"You really care about her, don't you?" he said finally. 

"Yeah," he was quiet for a long moment. "She's. . . got spunk. She stowed away in my truck, you know, she stopped me from getting stabbed," he sighed. "I don't want her alone or hurt." 

"You want to protect her." 

A nod. "I never felt like this," as though unconscious of the action, he begun stroking and cracking his knuckles. "I know that she's got the stuff, but. . ." 

"Sounds like you love her," Scott said in a deliberate light tone. 

"No!" he exploded. "She's . . . I don't know how much younger, but - " 

"There's more than one kind of love." There was a long silence. Then Scott spoke. "Her parents are disowning her, you know." 

"_What?!_" 

"I heard the Professor on the phone with them," Scott said, taking another bite of ice cream. "They're freaked out by the 'mutant terrorism' that's been happening." He sighed. "They're conservative, small town people. They don't want anything to do with her." 

Logan tried to squash the rising emotions. It was a fight to keep his claws sheathed. Scott must have seen that, because he continued hurriedly, "The Professor's thinking of making her a ward of the school when the legal precedings are finished." 

"When was this?" His voice growled with emotion. 

"Last week. Professor X will start the process two weeks from now." 

"Does she know?" 

Scott shook his head. "No. Not yet. He wasn't going to tell her until after she has been confirmed as a ward of the school." 

"What?" he surged to his feet. "He's not even giving her a choice!" 

"What choice is there?" Scott asked, his mind working as it leapt from conclusion to conclusion. 

"I'll give her a choice," Logan growled in a dangerous voice and stormed from the room. 

In the glow from the TV, Scott grinned to himself. 

*** 

"Where are you off to," Storm called as Logan breezed through the entranceway, swinging on his coat as he went. 

"Library," he replied shortly before slamming the door behind him. 

Storm blinked a few times, the shook her head. "Now there's a mental image you don't get every day," she muttered to herself. 

*** 

"Professor!" 

"Logan, good afternoon," he said levelly. "You've come about Rogue." At Logan's expression, he raised an eyebrow. "I'm psychic, remember?" 

"I heard that her parents were abandoning her." 

"That is correct." 

"And that you're going to adopt her as a ward of the school." 

"Yes." 

"And you were going to tell her. . . when?" 

"Ah," the Professor steepled his fingers. "Rogue does not need to know before - " 

"Doesn't need to know?!" Logan exploded. "It's her life! Give her a chance to see her parents, talk to them. Give her a choice." 

"What choices does she have?" he asked, knowing full well what the volatile Wolverine had in mind. 

For the first time, Logan looked almost uncomfortable. Then he raised his chin, clenched his fists, and said in a growl, "I would adopt her." 

"You? You would hardly make a suitable guardian," he grinned internally. He knew Logan had the answers and Xavier wanted to see how far he would carry this. "And I'm positive the courts would reject you summarily when you applied." 

"If I had an endorsement from her parents, there would at least be an investigation into my 'suitability'." He said the last word with distaste. "I want to give Rogue that choice." 

Professor X gave him a long, searching look. "I couldn't stop you if I wanted to, but I agree with you." He sighed. "I hadn't planned on telling Rogue this now, but I see that wouldn't be fair to her. Let her know." He turned his chair so he could see the window. "Take her to see her parents. Get your endorsement. I will officially 'hire' you as a handyman to give you a credible job." 

"Thank you, Professor." Logan breathed a silent sigh of relief as he left the study. He glanced at the clock in the front hall. Classes were over and he wanted to tell her as soon as possible. He ran over in his mind what he was going to tell her. He hated to break Rogue's heart like this, but she would have to know. He. . . loved her too much to deny her that. 

A quick scan of the courtyard revealed Rogue's non-presence outside. He walked around the outside of the building, hoping to see her: nothing. He briefly checked the common room and the kitchen, without result. Her roommate informed him that she hadn't been back after class. So Wolverine found himself in the almost empty boy's hall. He padded down the hall, muttering the name to himself as he went. "Kidd. . . Munroe. . . Castilla. . . Drake." He paused a moment, took a deep breath, and knocked. There was the thump of feet hitting the floor and a moment later, Bobby opened the door just wide enough to frame his face. 

"Oh, Wolverine, hey." He opened the door all the way to show a pile of books and papers by and on the bed that Rogue was stretched out on. She looked up and scrambled to her feet, scattering papers. 

"Logan! Hey, sorry about - " 

He raised a hand. "Don't worry, I won't blow the whistle on you. Can I come in?" Bobby stepped back and Logan stepped past him. "Rogue, I. . . have something to tell you." 

The curious expression on her face almost broke his heart. "What is it?" 

He glanced at Bobby. "I don't know if you would want. . ." 

"It's cool," he said. "I'll go. . . get a drink, or something." Rogue gave him a small smile as he slipped out, but her mind was racing, thinking and discarding theories wildly. Not one came near the truth. 

Logan felt uncomfortable. His way of dealing with things ran more to "Hack. Slash. Destroy." So he took a breath and told her. 

"Your parents called the Professor. They. . ." he swallowed. "They've decided to disown you." 

She blinked. She sat down hard. She blinked some more. "Oh my god." She said. Tears stood in her eyes. She looked up at him with shining eyes. "Why? Because I'm. . ." 

The lump in his throat kept him from answering, so he just nodded. She buried her head in her hands and Logan's heart broke a little more. He didn't know what to do, so he just sat down beside her and patted her awkwardly on the back. 

"The Professor said he would adopt you as a ward of the school," he said after a moment. "But. . . you have another choice." 

"What?" It came muffled and wet. 

"I. . ." he swallowed. "I said before I'd take care of you. I would like to adopt you instead of the school." 

With a muffled wail, Rogue turned and gave him a close hug. He returned it awkwardly, careful to avoid skin contact. She let go a moment later and sat back. She looked up at him with a small smile. "I'd like that," she said with a sniffle. "A lot." 

This hug was easier. Just as they were pulling away, there was a tap at the door, and Bobby pushed it open. "Can I come in?" he said, pausing at the door. 

"Yeah," Rogue said. 

Bobby practically teleported to her side. "What's wrong? Why are you crying?" He shot a glare at Logan; who stepped back with a 'not me' gesture. 

"My *sniffle* parents have decided that have a mutant daughter is not their goal in life and have decided to cut me loose," she said, trying to keep her tone light. "Logan is adopting me." 

Bobby looked at Rogue. Then he looked at Logan. He glanced between them a few times. "Whoa." 

"I'm going to try," Logan clarified. "First I need to get a recommendation from your parents before I apply to adopt you. Then I have to convince social services that I'll make a suitable guardian." 

"You have to talk to my parents?" Rogue squeaked. 

"I have to. Professor X gave both of us permission to go visit them as soon as possible." 

"Looking like that?" The words escaped before she could clamp them down. 

He opened his mouth to protest, but then took a look at himself like a conservative, small town parent, and he twisted his mouth wryly. White tank top, huge belt buckle, faded and ripped blue jeans. . . no. "I guess not." 

"When are we going to leave?" She asked, unconsciously wrapping Bobby's hand around her own. 

"Tomorrow. Around 8. We should get there sometime in the afternoon, from what little you told me." 

She looked down. "I'll write out some directions. How long are we going?" 

"As long as you want," he said. He paused. "We don't have to go." 

She shook her head. "No. We do." She took a deep, shuddering breath. "I can handle it. We can get my stuff, too." 

"Alright." Fatherly shoulder squeeze. "Hey kid, can you trust me to spiff myself up, or do you want to come?" 

"Bobby. . ." 

"Him too." 

There was a long, unheard conversation. "Sure," Rogue said at last. "We'll go." 

*** 

Logan pounded down the stairs. He grabbed his coat and waited by the main doors for Bobby and Rogue. He closed his eyes and leaned against the wall, taking advantage of the quiet moment to indulge in a bit of weakness. 

"Heads up!" 

Reflexively, his hand came up and caught something he briefly recognized as a leather wallet, followed by a set of keys. He looked up to see Scott jogging across the entrance hall. He grunted an acknowledgement and investigated the wallet. It was plain dark leather, cracked and bent from being relegated to a back pocket. He briefly thumbed through the contents: a handful of bills, about $50 in all, a blue Canadian fiver, some assorted credit cards, a driver's license apparently belonging to him, and an American citizenship card, also belonging to him. The keys were a jumble of regular keys with a lizard key chain. 

"What's this?" 

"The professor said to give them to you. The plastic is a school account. Don't worry about it. The rest is just pocket change," he said easily. 

"This?" he held up the license. Scott shrugged. 

"I just deliver 'em." He pointed at the other hand. "The keys are to the navy blue Landrover and the rest might have some purpose, but we don't know." He held out a communicator. "Don't forget this." 

Logan took it, eyebrows raised. "I'm not leaving until tomorrow, you know." 

He shrugged again. "Better safe than sorry." 

Bobby and Rogue made their appearance and started across the hall. "Guess I'll see ya later, then," Scott said, turning away. 

"Hey," Logan called, but forgot what he was saying when Scott turned back to look. "Thanks," he settled for gruffly. Scott looked briefly puzzled but nodded before turning away. 

Logan didn't like conflicting emotions. 

*** 

As soon as Logan stepped through the sliding doors of the local department store, he was eminently glad that Bobby was with him. Logan didn't much like crowded places. Especially when said place was full of women. Rogue went directly into shopping-woman mode and Logan and Bobby drifted helplessly in her wake. In a very short period of time, she somehow amassed a huge pile of clothes of all shapes and colours, while the boys watched in slack-jawed amazement. 

"If you give a girl a charge card. . ." Bobby muttered to Logan, who gave a brief grunt of laughter in reply. 

"I heard that." Came a voice from the depths of the racks. 

Bobby leaned closer. "Thanks. She's taking the whole parent thing pretty hard, but. . . you're helping." 

"Okay, I'm done," Rogue announced, setting one final shirt on top of the already heaping pile. Logan eyed it. 

"You expect me to buy all this?" 

"'Course not." She folded her arms. "You have to try it on." 

If he had been any other man, he would have groaned. 

*** 

"I feel like a clown," he growled, as he slammed open the change room door for the umpteenth time. 

"You don't look like one," she said appreciatively. 

"Don't start with me, kid," he growled jamming a finger in her direction. 

"You look good! Go! Change!" 

As the door slammed shut again, she thought she caught muttered, well, either regrets or death threats. 

At last, the ordeal was over, and Logan had never been so glad to have his clothes back. They, or rather Rogue, had settled on one pair of black pants, a new pair of dark jeans and one of khakis, along with a collection of semi-nice casual shirts in grey, blue, and dark green. She had decided to let him keep his boots, but a new belt and, to his chagrin, a razor had been added. When he had protested, she had given him a level look and said, "You look like you haven't shaved in months." 

"I haven't!" 

"Which is one of the reasons you look like a bushman." The look became a glare. "Which is not a good thing in my parent's eyes." 

Damn women and their last words. 

They neared the checkout slowly. Logan wasn't a patient person, and waiting in line amidst a sea of chattering women was one of the many things that tried it. When he finally reached the cashier, he shoved the pile of clothes at the flustered young woman. The cashier looked up, gave a hurried smile, and said, "It's so nice to see a man taking his daughter shopping these days." 

Logan didn't know whether to be complimented or offended. 

*** 

Scott was waiting for them. His face split in an all-too-rare smile as Logan stomped up the steps, laden with shopping bags. 

"One word, you myopic sadist, and I'll. . ." Logan growled with his best 'Don't Bug Me Now' glare. 

"I said nothing!" Scott protested, laughter bubbling through his voice. 

"You were going to." 

All he got in reply was a snicker. 

*** 

The next morning, early, Wolverine prowled silently through the entranceway, duffel bag slung over one shoulder. 

"Sleep alright?" 

He almost jumped. "Christ, Scott, how do you do that?" 

Scott shrugged. "Practice. Jean slept light." 

"I was making arrangements. I wanted to get away before everyone was up. Rogue should be down in a minute." 

Scott regarded him levelly for a long moment. "Why are you doing this?" he asked finally. 

"Because I promised her that we would look after each other," Logan replied after a moment's thought. 

"Do you always keep your promises?" 

"Yeah." 

"Will you make me one?" 

Logan looked at him sharply, quizzically. 

"Promise me you'll come back." 

Another long, full silence. 

"I promise," Logan said, and knew that he was promising more than a return journey. 

The moment was broken by a pyjama-clad Bobby staggering down the stairs, rubbing his eyes. "Am I late?" he yawned. 

"Nope," Logan replied, surprised. "I didn't know you would be up." 

This was confirmed by Rogue's surprised "Bobby!" as she took the stairs two at a time, a duffel banging the back of her knees. They caught each other in a breathless hug and quick kiss. "We said goodbye last night!" 

"I couldn't resist," Bobby murmured. 

"Mmm, you're too good to me," Rogue replied. Another quick kiss. 

"C'mon, kid, let's get going," Logan said gruffly. 

"Okay." She turned to look back to Bobby. "I'll see you in a few days, alright?" 

"Miss you already." One more kiss, and Rogue was out the door. Logan's good-byes were much shorter. 

"See ya." 

"Bye," from Bobby. 

"Good luck," Scott nodded in Manly Comfort and Approval™ Mode. 

As the sky turned rosy and the streetlights began putting themselves out as the Landrover passed them, Rogue dozed and Wolverine drove. When the sun was well up, they stopped for coffee and breakfast donuts (ah, to be out of Storm's path), with Logan muttering to himself about the lack of something called 'Tim's'. When they were back on the road, they drove in silence for a couple of hours, a comfortable silence this time. Rogue spent the time concentrating on the reading Storm had given her for the trip, an old English novel 'The Portrait of Dorian Gray". Logan glanced over occasionally, not worried and assuming the frown was one of concentration, until he noticed she hadn't turned the page in almost half an hour. 

"Hey, kid, what's wrong?" 

Silence. 

"Worried about your folks?" 

"Yeah." Rogue sighed. "What if. . . what if they don't want to see us?" 

That possibility had never occurred to him. "They will," he said with confidence he didn't feel. "They won't deny you at any rate." 

Small sound of assent. 

"Don't worry." He glanced over at her. "No matter what happens, I won't leave you." 

"That chalks it up to one," she said, a bit sadly. 

Logan let the silence linger a little longer, before saying, "I've made reservations at a motel. We'll head there first. Did you want to call them before, or just drop in?" 

"Call." Decisive nod. "It would be the courteous thing to do." 

"Fine." More silence. 

"I'm not much of an actor," he said finally. "But you may as well tell me what we're getting ourselves into once we get there." 

"Well, my parents. . ." Rogue spent the rest of the time by the time they stopped for lunch talking about her parents and her life before her ability came out. Logan felt a pang of – jealousy? regret? – when she spoke of Christmas traditions and family campouts. He was almost glad when they pulled into the motel at around 4 p.m. 

He checked in without fuss, and Rogue sat down immediately to call her parents. Logan listened to the conversation as he scoped out the room and checked in with the school. 

Rogue took a deep breath and dialed her home number. On the third ring, a woman's voice answered pleasantly, "Hello?" 

Deep breath. "Hi, Mom. It's me, Marie." 

Silence. Then, in a forced cheer, "Hello, honey. We haven't heard from you in simply ages. How are you doing?" 

"I'm fine, really." Breathe, Rogue, breathe! "I heard about the abandonment." 

"Honey - " 

"We need to talk about it." 

"What is there to talk about?" All warmth was gone. "Your professor assured us that you would be taken care of." In the background, Rogue could hear her father asking who it was. Her mother called back, "No-one!" She came back and hissed, "Leave us alone!" 

"Marie?" Her father picked up. 

"Daddy?" 

"Mark!" her mother sounded furious. "Get off the phone!" 

"Where are you? Are you okay?" 

"I'm fine, Daddy," she felt tears well up in her eyes. "I'm in town. I - " 

"You're here? You have to come over for supper - " 

"Mark!" 

"Get off the line, Beth." A hint of steel in his voice. There was a click, and she was alone with her father. "Sorry, darling. Your mother's not herself. Please do come." 

"We were planning on dropping by, anyway." Deep breath. Get it out. "Daddy, we need to talk about my adoption." 

"I thought that you were being made a ward of that school of yours." 

Rogue glanced at Logan. "Well. . . there's another possibility. It'll be easier to explain face-to-face." 

"Of course honey," her father's voice had no forced anything in it. She began to feel at least one of her parents hadn't given up on their mutant daughter. "Is it just you?" 

"Uh, no. . . there's someone else who came with me." 

"Bring them too!" he father moved away from the phone for a moment. "I was going to start supper at about at about 5:30." 

"We'll be there at 5." 

"Alright, honey. Love you." 

"Love you too. Bye." 

"Bye." *click* 

Rogue set the phone back in the cradle slowly. "Kid?" Logan asked uncertainly. 

"It's fine." She said, abstractedly. "I'll go get cleaned up." 

Logan sat and fiddled with his thumbs, listening to the water run for five minutes and shut off. 10 minutes later, Rogue came out, still looking a bit dazed, with wet straggly hair dampening the shoulders of her favourite shirt. Logan took a slightly longer shower, and pulled on the new black pants that Rogue had picked. Then, he stood in front of the mirror and put razor to cheek. Well, shaving cream to cheek, and. . . you get the picture. It was over quickly, mainly because he didn't have to worry about nicking himself. When the last of the shaving cream had been towelled off, he looked at his reflection and winced. He ran a hand along the now-clean-shaven cheek. He shuddered. The things we do for love. . . he thought miserably. 

He walked out of the bathroom to find Rogue just pulling her dry and brushed hair into a high ponytail. She turned and gaped. He folded his arms and scowled. She raised a hand to her mouth as if to mask a giggle and his scowl deepened. 

"You look. . . good," she finally managed to choke out. 

"It's because of you, kid," he growled, stomping over to his duffel and pulling out the blue shirt. Rogue pulled on her gloves and came over to fix him up. Logan caught a glance of himself in the mirror and had to perform a massive mental frameshift. The clean, well-groomed and dressed stranger in the mirror gazed back at him. 

"Wow," Rogue said, stepping back to take a better look. "You look totally non-threatening." She caught an eyeful of his glower. "In a completely threatening way," she amended hurriedly. 

"Nice try, kid," he growled, grabbing his coat. "Let's go. Wouldn't do to be late." 

Rogue was quiet as they drove, only speaking to give him directions. Logan realized that it must be strange, to drive through your unchanged neighbourhood when you've changed so much yourself. She must have read his mind, because she heaved a sigh and leaned her head against the window, saying, "I can't believe it's been a year. . . only a year. . ." She gazed at a little park as they passed, the flock of kids ignoring the car. "They took out the fun-go-round," she murmured. "Turn left at the stop sign." 

He turned onto a quiet residential sheet of cookie-cutter houses with neat front lawns and one tiny tree per house. She directed him to one of them, with a light blue garage and a splatter flowers around the tree and in an orderly box along the side of the house. Logan checked the clock as he put it into park, which flashed 4:56. He looked over at Rogue. "Ready to go, kid?" 

Deep breath. "Yeah." Her brain seemed to have shut down. Unhook seatbelt, open door, watch the drop. . . walk up the sidewalk. . . ring doorbell. . . listen for footsteps. 

To be continued . . . 


	3. Part III

It Takes All Types: Part III It Takes All Types **Kauri **

Part III: Wherein Rogue's Parents Get a Start, Logan Gets Pissed, Some Teenagers Get Mad, and Kauri Blatantly Bites _Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter_

"Marie!" 

Her father came to the door almost immediately. She stepped in and gave him a careful hug. He held her gloved hand in both of his own, and Logan felt relieved at the identical grins on their faces. All of a sudden, Rogue remembered her manners. "Oh! Uh, Logan, this is my father, Mark. Dad, this is Logan. He, uh, works at the school." 

"Good to meet you," Mark said, smiling. He extended his hand, and Logan gripped it carefully but firmly. 

"Mark," he said in a short greeting. 

"Come in, both of you," he said, stepping back and ushering them in. Logan looked around curiously at the interior. There were no distinguishing characteristics at all. They paused a small kitchen and into a sitting room done in greens and creams. A dour-looking woman came in from the kitchen and leaned against the doorframe. 

"Beth, this is Marie's friend, Logan." Mark said. "Logan, this is my wife, Beth." 

"Nice to meet you," Logan said, an unnatural smile on his face. He extended a hand, but she ignored it, until he let it drop and sat in one of the green armchairs. Rogue and her dad sat on the couch across from him. 

"So, Logan, are you a teacher at the school?" 

"Not exactly." What did he do? "I'm more of – an odd job guy. I keep an eye on the kids – " Save them from evil anti-mutant commandos. – "run errands, do research, things like that." Not exactly a lie. 

Mark made the 'Ah, I understand' sounds and motions. "That's great that you could take Marie down here." He turned to his daughter. "So, dear, please, tell me all about what you've been up to lately. How did you meet Logan? What's the school of yours like?" 

"Why are you bothering?" the mother snarled suddenly. "They're freaks, all of them. They shouldn't have come here." 

Logan's claws started to itch. "Hey, lady, we're mutants, not freaks. Freaks are alone. Mutants stick together." 

Mark looked surprised. "You're. . . one of them, then?" 

Logan would have thought that would follow logically. "Uh, yeah. I. . ." -- to mention the claws or not to mention the claws, that is the question -- "heal. Very rapidly." 

"He was thrown through a car windshield and slid across the ground." Rogue put in with a touch of pride. "Three seconds later he got up." 

Open-mouthed silence. Blink, blink. "I didn't think mutants could do things like that." Mark said finally. 

"Not all our powers are as powerful as R- Marie's," Logan said. "Mine's fairly common, I'm told." 

"We assumed that mutants could only destroy," Mark said, looking uncomfortable. 

"They can," Beth growled. 

"Some of us do," Logan snarled. "But the rest of us fight for the protection of humanity!" 

"You fight?" Beth scoffed. "What, you bleed on them?" 

He couldn't stand it. He was on his feet, claws out before they could blink. "Logan!" Rogue cried as her parents gasped and scrambled back. He took a deep breath and sheathed them again. 

"Sorry, Rogue," he said, not caring. Speaking to her parents, he said, "I have a metal skeleton grafted onto my own. The claws come with it. They were _not_ part of my power." He took a breath and sat. "I apologize. Your Marie is a powerful mutant, she fights with us." 

"Logan. . ." Rogue said warningly. 

"Marie, I think you had better fill us in on your . . . fight." her father said, looking worried 

She sighed. "I'd hoped I wouldn't have to. Do you remember the thing that went down at the UN meeting last year. . ." 

*** 

About a half-hour later, Rogue had fallen silent. The humans were looking more than a little shell-shocked. "See?" she said weakly. "I said you didn't want to know." 

He father swallowed hard a few times, and finally managed to say, "At least you're alive and safe." He got up slowly. "I'd better get supper started. Come out back with me. I want to know how you're doing, beside this war." 

Beth had disappeared already, and as Rogue got up, Logan stopped her. They locked eyes for a long moment, Logan's concerned and Rogue's sad. A silent question, and Rogue nodded. He squeezed her shoulder comfortingly, and they followed. 

As thick steaks sizzled on the grille, her father, obviously trying to repress the news of his daughter's role in the growing war, asked her about her school: her lessons, her teachers, the other students and their abilities, everything. 

"The other day," she was saying excitedly, "Kurt made pancakes. He's just about the best cook in the school." 

"And Kurt is. . . the blue furry teleporter?" 

"Yeah. So he made pancakes, and Storm was getting mad because he wasn't staying still – or on the floor. Kitty must have eaten I don't know how many by the time he cut her off." 

"And Kitty can phase through solid objects?" 

"Uh huh. We call her Shadowcat." 

"Do you all have nicknames?" 

"Mostly. I'm Rogue, and there's Shadowcat, Nightcrawler, Collosus, Cyclops, Pyro, Iceman –" 

"Iceman?" 

Rogue blushed. "Bobby Drake. He's. . . well. . ." 

"Her sweetie," Logan put in. 

"Oh, you've got a boyfriend?" her father exclaimed, as her blush deepened. "Even with the. . ." 

"He doesn't mind," Rogue said quickly. "He's great. He's not scared, at all." She smiled. "He's great to have around on a hot day," she said lightly. 

"With a name like Iceman, I'm not surprised." 

He decisively flipped the steaks onto a waiting tray, along with the foil-wrapped veggies and potatoes. Rogue got up automatically to open the screen door for him and, acting on long habit, began setting the table. Logan watched them work, envious of her home, the fact that she had once fit in somewhere. 

"Beth!" Mark called up the stairs. He waited a moment and called again. He shrugged. "I guess it's just us." 

Like magic, the table was covered with food and drink, enough to make Logan's mouth water. As they sat down, Mark began serving out the barbecued steaks and veggies. "Sorry for that," he said, as much to Rogue as to Logan. "She's had a hard time dealing with the entire mutant thing, and she just can't deal with them being spoken of as people." 

"A lot of people feel that way," Logan said, thinking of a man in a bar who hadn't liked being duped by one. "We learn to deal with it." 

They ate in mainly silence, Mark occasionally filling his daughter in on the family and community news. When the plates were cleaned and the majority of the mess was put away, Mark led them back on to the back deck. "I know you want to talk about us putting you up for adoption," he said, turning to Rogue. "I never wanted that. Your mother wanted to be rid of the 'mutant strain' on the family." He sighed unhappily. "I only agreed when I knew you'd be taken care of. You wouldn't be safe here, and neither would we. There's a lot of anti-mutant sentiments here." 

"I know, Daddy." Rogue said. "Still, you should have told me." 

"How did you find out?" 

"Logan told me." They looked at him. 

"Scott told me," he said. "He must have overheard the professor." 

"You said on the phone there was another way. . ." Mark said. 

"Well – " Rogue began, but Logan cut her off. 

"I want to adopt your daughter," he said abruptly. 

Silence. "Really?" Mark said. "I was. . . well, unaware that anyone would care enough to. . . why?" 

"I like her." Logan said. "And I don't like a lot of people." He shrugged. "She interfered in a bar fight, stowed away in my truck, had the guts to mother me, and managed to not piss me off in the process. She's a hell of a girl." He took a breath. "I promised her I'd take care of her, and I couldn't. I want to now." 

"We promised to take care of each other!" Rogue reminded him. "Dad, he's saved me more times than I can count – " 

"– three –" 

Glare. "Dad, I trust him to take care of me more than the school could." 

"If she's sick or injured," Logan continued, "all she has to do is touch me and she'll heal almost instantly." 

"Logan!" 

"I'll be unconscious, but we'll both survive." 

Mark sat in stunned silence. After a while, he shook his head slowly. "Bit of a bombshell there. I never thought. . . Why did you need to come to me with this?" "Logan needs a commendation from my parents, or a parent, so he can get a hearing," Rogue said quickly. "It's just easier." There was silence for a moment as Mark thought. Finally he nodded, almost to himself, and addressed Logan. "I trust you. You look a bit scary, and you could tear her shreds in seconds, but I do believe you." He sighed. "I was still uncomfortable with leaving her to the school, but now I'm feeling better about her future." 

"You mean – " Rogue started. 

"Yes. I'll write you that commendation and alert the lawyers. I –" Whatever he was going to say was lost as Rogue hit him with a hug at 50 klicks around the middle. 

"Thank you, Daddy!" she cried, reverting to little-girl mode. He patted her awkwardly, obviously unwilling to risk skin contact. Rogue realized this and pulled away. They looked each other fondly, and Logan began to feel that he was intruding. 

"I never thought I'd really see you again," he said. 

"Me too, Dad." 

"So, what do I call you now? Rogue?" 

"I'm still Marie," she said, then paused. "I'm pretty sure." 

They laughed, a little wetly. She sniffed and said, "So has Mom burned all my stuff or can I still get some?" 

Mark laughed. "Not quite. She's more or less ignored your existence this past year. Come on, we'll start getting it." He looked at his watch. "It's getting late. You should be going soon, anyway." 

Logan also glanced at the sky. "We'll drop by tomorrow to get it." 

Mark showed them to the door and completely fulfilled his role as host. As they finally said goodbye, he said "I'll get started on the commendation and call the lawyer." 

"Bye, Daddy." 

"Bye, sweetie." He shook hands with Logan again. "Till tomorrow, then." 

*** 

Rogue was quiet when they got back to the room. She changed into her pyjamas and performed her nightly rituals before climbing into bed with _Dorian Gray_. 

Logan flicked the TV on; listening to the news for a bit. It was funny. Until he had come to the school, he hadn't given much thought to the whole mutant debate. Any thought, actually. Now he followed it as avidly as any X-man. After a few minutes of war this and famine that, he muted it, but kept an eye on the scrolling headlines as he pulled out the cell and called the school. Scott picked up on the second ring. 

"Logan?" 

"Yeah." 

"How'd it go?" 

"Good. The father agreed." 

"What about the mother?" 

"Well. . . she's about as anti-mutant as they come. She couldn't care less." 

"Sorry to hear that. How's Rogue holding up?" 

"Well. Better than I thought. I think seeing her dad helped." 

There was a pause. "When're you getting back?" Scott's voice was neutral, but there were emotions hidden behind it – emotions Logan understood. For some reason, he didn't feel he could stay the night here in this place alone. 

"Tomorrow," he replied. "Maybe the day after. I want to give Rogue a few days away from the school." 

"Sounds good. I'll update the professor." 

"Tomorrow, then. G'night." 

"Yeah, 'night." 

*click* 

He sat there for a while, mind a thousand klicks away. His hand slipped to the bed and jostled the remote, causing the TV to un-mute itself. 

" – a group of seven mutants was attacked in their home yesterday evening," the anchorwoman stated. "One has been killed and the other six are in critical condition at a nearby hospital. This is the third in a series of attacks on mutant by an anti-mutant protest group known as Humans First. Reports of demonstrations by this group have been reported from Canada, the United Kingd – " Logan switched it off. 

He turned to look at Rogue, who had already been looking at him. They shared a long, deep look. They both knew what this meant – the school, and their friends were in danger. 

"Are they alright?" Rogue asked in a small voice. 

"Yeah. Don't worry kiddo, no one will get to the school while we are there." His eyes narrowed. "No one." 

*** 

Logan didn't sleep much. Any, really. So he expected a long, sleepless night, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling. So it was much to his surprise when he started awake suddenly. Rubbing his eyes, he rolled off the bed, wearing only his pants from the night before. He staggered over to the window and opened the curtains. Blazing daylight streamed over him, so he staggered back and covered his eyes. He swore to himself as he adjusted to the light. He turned, thinking to wake Rogue, but a scan of the room showed her bed to be empty. 

"Rogue?" he called uncertainly. There was no answer. He catapulted over the beds and rushed to the bathroom to find it empty. "Oh, shit," he muttered as he pulled on his old shirt and grabbed his jacket. She was probably at her father's. He went quickly down the corridor and slammed into the lobby. 

"Did you see a young girl go by here?" he demanded of the registrar. "Red hair with a white streak, wearing gloves?" 

"No sir, I'm sorry." 

Logan snarled to himself. He started to turn away but something occurred to him. He turned back and demanded, "Where's the high school?" 

The clearly terrified clerk stammered out directions, and Logan stormed out to the Landrover. He was angry at Rogue for running out, angry at himself for letting it happen, and terrified that she could be in danger. He drove faster than was safe, even for him. When he swerved onto the quiet street that housed the school, he jolted to a quick stop on the road. He breathed a silent sigh of relief when he saw the familiar form of his charge sitting on the picnic bench on the strip of grass and trees across from the squat, two-storey high school. 

"Hey, kid," he said, settling beside her. 

"Hey." She gazed at the school. "It's smaller than I remember, you know." 

Logan looked at it. His eyes, sharper than hers, could distinguish faces pressed to the windows on both floors, and his enhanced ears could hear shouts. 

"Rogue, maybe we should go – " he started, when the main doors slammed open and a crowd of students and a few teachers poured out, standing on the other side of the main driveway, a meter of concrete separating them. "Rogue. . ." he said again, more urgently. 

"Go away, mutant!" One of the boys called. 

"John! I'm still myself!" She called back. "I'm still Marie!" 

"You're a monster!" another called. 

"You almost killed Andrew!" another cry. 

"Mutant!" 

"Monster!" 

"Leave us alone!" With the last, a good-sized rock was hurled in their direction. Rogue ducked and it sailed harmlessly by. But more followed it, striking her upraised arms, as more abuse was thrown with it. 

"Sue! *duck* Katie! Phil! *duck* I'm Marie!" she cried, dropping her arms for a moment. A well-thrown rock hit her cheek, and she gave a little cry of pain. Logan stepped in front of her, shielding her with his body. 

"You want a mutant?" he roared. "I'll give you a mutant!" In a flash, his claws were out and he was in a fighting stance. The abuse immediately faltered and stopped. The next few rocks, thrown half-heartedly, he slashed in half in the air. He took a threatening step forward, but Rogue's soft voice stopped him. 

"Logan, no." She paused. "Please." 

The claws retracted, and he straightened. With a final glare, he turned aware and helped Rogue off the table. He tried a Dignified Walk From Enemies, but it was ruined when Rogue gave a cry of pain and dropped to the ground. A ragged hole had appeared in her shirt, just above the small of her back. A wicked looking sharp chunk of concrete with bits of glass embedded in it had torn through her skin and lodged. Logan saw red. With a snarl and a bound, he was among the students, claws out. 

He had gone for the one that the rest had been congratulating. He lifted him by the shirt in one hand and held the claws of the other against his throat. "Happy now?" he demanded in a snarl. "Are you? She was your friend, your classmate, and you almost killed her. It's because of you that mutants everywhere are afraid for their lives. It's because of your ignorance that we have to fight against the mutants who have been rejected and are bitter." He dropped him. "You're lucky, little man, that I'm not one of them." 

He turned away, and moved to Rogue's side. He wrapped her in his jacket and lifted her easily into the back seat. He drove quickly to her parents' house, and moved her to the long front veranda. Her face was white with pain and she was sweating. Logan carefully laid her down and stretched out beside her. 

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He raised his hand and laid it on the exposed skin of her upper-arm. Almost immediately he felt the tug and out of the corner of his eye saw the cut on her cheek close over. He gasped for breath, and the last thing he heard before blacking out was her panicked cry of "Logan!" 

*** 

Much later, Mark pulled into his driveway behind the unfamiliar Landrover. He hurried up the walk and met Rogue on the veranda carrying a box of stuff. 

"Hi, Dad," she said, smiling. 

"Hey, sweetie," he replied. "Where's Logan? I thought he was helping you." 

Rogue set down the box and brushed a stray strand of hair out of her eyes. "He's up here," she said, stepping back. He looked, curious, and saw the man seemingly fast asleep on the porch. 

"What happened?" 

"We went to the school. I wanted to see it again they --" she swallowed. "They threw rocks and things at us. One hit me in the back, but Logan knocked himself out to give me his healing mojo." She looked at him fondly. "Big dumb Canuck." 

Mark shook his head. "Are you alright now?" 

"Yeah, I'm fine," she said. "Would you mind giving me a hand with this? It's just three boxes. I hope you don't mind me using them." 

"Of course, darling." He glanced at Logan again. "Will he be okay?" 

"Fine." She sighed. "He's just asleep now, but he hasn't slept much lately, so I let him sleep." 

*** When the boxes were secured in the back seat, Rogue gave her dad one last hug. "Bye, Daddy." 

"Bye, Marie." He held her at arms length. "Now remember, I want phone calls and letters, regularly." 

"Sure, Daddy." They turned to look at Logan. 

"Now how do we get him up?" Mark said. 

"Last time I tried, he almost gutted me," she said wryly. "Maybe poking him with a long stick. . ." 

A rake was procured from the garage, and, standing a safe distance away, Rogue gave his stomach a hard poke with the rake handle. Three seconds later, the rake handle was a foot shorter and Logan was on his feet, panting. 

"And voila!" Rogue said, flourishing the handle. 

"Ha." Logan sneered. *shink* The claws were gone. "Are you alright?" 

"I'm fine, it worked." 

"That's not all that I meant." 

A tiny nod. "I'll be okay." She shrugged it off. "I've packed everything. I want to get back to the school." 

Logan squinted at the sky. "We'll get back late, but I want to get back, too." 

"I just got this back from the notary," Mark said, holding out a piece of paper. "It's a copy of the commendation. They should be calling you." 

"Thanks." They shook hands. Logan said, "I'll be seeing ya, then." Rogue followed him down to the car, and she waved as they pulled away. They packed and checked out quickly. As they drove back, Logan kept the radio on a news channel. Another attack had happened that morning by the Humans First group in L.A. A healer was the only one to survive. 

Logan flipped channels in disgust, but the next thing they heard was a honey-sugar woman's voice declaring the 'unsuitability' of mutants to exist. She used that melodious, reasonable voice to declaim all mutants as 'dangerous abominations'. Like a train wreck, they couldn't stop staring. Or listening, in this case. When she signed off with a cheery, "Support your local Humans First group!", Rogue shuddered. 

"This isn't good," she said. 

"Not good at all." To be continued . . . 


	4. Part IV

**Kauri **

Part IV: Wherein the Mutants Have Some Fun 

Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters was quiet. Two holes gaping with tangle of wiring proclaimed that work had begun on the perimeter when they passed the main gates. As Logan parked in the garage, Rogue suddenly yawned. 

"We'll unpack you later," he said as they got out. "Go and get some sleep." 

"Night!" she called softly when they reached the entrance hall and she fled upstairs. He watched her go, and then turned towards the common room, thinking to say hello to Scott before turning in. 

"I'm back," he called – 

– to an empty room. He glanced around, then wandered into the kitchen. No sign of the myopic mutant. Wolverine shrugged, and headed off to his own room. 

For some reason, he felt strangely disappointed. 

*** 

The next morning, Rogue almost tripped as she opened the door to her room and stubbed her toe and the three overstuffed boxes now relocated outside her door. She glanced up and down the hall but there was no sign of anyone. She shrugged and started dragging them in. 

"Rogue! You're back!" 

"Morning, Rogue!" 

"Where were you yesterday?" 

"Rogue!" 

"Hey girl, where you been?" 

Rogue walked through the halls, basking in the glow of acceptance. Being literally stoned by people she had grown up with wasn't her number one occurrence of the year, but her warm welcome was well on its way to making up for that. Especially when she walked into her first class and Bobby looked up from his desk. 

Fifteen minutes later . . . "Excuse me!" Storm rapped. "If you two don't mind, I would like to begin the lesson." 

*** 

Storm sighed an hour and a half later as the students filed out. They had been extra squirrelly today, for some reason. She rubbed her temples. The Professor told her she was a natural teacher, but today was one of those days she felt like a natural homicidal maniac. 

*_bampf_* "Rough day?" A sympathetic German-accented voice said from behind her. 

"Ugh," she said eloquently, turning around. 

"Tea?" he asked, holding out a cup. 

"How did we live without?" she breathed, a mixture of relief, thanks, and reverence. 

"Probably quite easily," he replied seriously. "I was going to ask for your help with something, but you've had a rough class." He turned away. "I won't bother you." 

"No!" Storm was surprised at her own vehemence. "No, of course I'll help. What did you need?" 

"If you could look over my lesson plans . . ." he said hesitantly, holding out a folder. 

Storm took it and leaned against her desk, taking a sip of tea. She flipped through them quickly. "These are good," she said after a moment. "Very detailed. Don't follow them too closely though," she turned around, her words trailing off as she found herself almost nose to nose with the blue mutant. They stared at each other for a long moment, until Kurt looked down and stammered, 

"T-Thank you," and quickly *_bampf_*ed away. Storm was left standing there, mouth slightly open in surprise. She blinked and shook her head to clear it. 

She took a sip of her tea. It had gone cold. 

*** 

As night spread her velvety cloak over the school, Logan padded down the halls in his customary curfew patrol. Satisfied, he returned to his room and tried to sleep. It was futile. He didn't know why he even tried any more. With a groan, he rolled out of bed and landed squarely on his feet. When he was half-way down the main stairs, he paused. The memory of an empty kitchen and common room flickered through his mind, but he pushed it out of his thoughts. But as he stepped into the darkened common room, his heart inexplicably fell. He padded into the kitchen, thinking to grab a beer anyway. His heart jumped into his throat as the bent figure illuminated by the open fridge door stood and turned. 

"Scott!" 

"Logan!" 

They took one involuntary step forward, and shared a Manly Hug Number Three in a Manly Fashion. Logan grabbed a beer without looking as Scott flicked on the light. Scott jumped up on the counter and sat there, swinging his legs slightly, as Logan leaned against the opposite counter and popped his beer, taking a long swig without taking his eyes off Scott. 

Scott smirked as Logan spluttered suddenly. "Hey, this is good!" he looked at the bottle and rolled the green label to reveal a red logo and golden stag. "Huh." He snorted. "Keith's. Good Canadian beer." 

Scott shrugged. "Hey, you're always complaining about the 'piss-poor quality of American beer.'" 

"Thanks." 

"So how was the trip?" 

Logan snorted. "God, I'm glad I didn't grow up in that bigoted little town." 

"Not good, then." 

"No, we got the commendation," growled Logan. "But from her da. I think he's the only non-mutantphobe in that redneck pit." 

"Rogue got a tough time?" Scott asked sympathetically. 

"Tough time, hell! We got stoned." 

"What?!?" 

Logan almost laughed at his reaction. "She went to her old school, and her 'classmates' threw rocks, sticks, whatever, at us." His expression darkened. "They would have killed her if they could." 

"Oh my God." Scott looked shocked. 

"So have you heard anything about this Humans First group?" Logan asked a moment later. To his surprise Scott burst out laughing. "What?" Logan demanded. 

Scott gasped for breath. "Oh yes, we know about them," he said. "The day you left, a representative called the school. They've been going around to schools making presentations, and she wanted to do one here." 

Logan blinked. "What did the professor say?" 

"Yes!" Scott squeaked before laughing again. 

"Why?" 

"He wants to show her how mutants really are," Scott said when he had suitably recovered. "We'll listen to her presentation, then he'll invite her to tour the campus. We've already talked to the kids," he added. "No powers during the presentation, then show off." 

Logan started to grin. "That's so evil." The grin broadened. "I like it." 

*** 

The school was scrubbed, the perimeter alarms hidden, and all traces of extranormal life squirreled away. The HF representative was due three days after Logan and Rogue's return; a Friday. Professor X had cancelled morning classes for the presentation, and everyone in the school had been admonished to not debate the arguments presented, and do their best to show off to their visitor as soon as the presentation was over. 

At nine o'clock that morning, Scott met her at the gate and directed her to the garage. He then showed her into what passed as the school's lecture hall. She had a slide show, so Storm helped her to set up the proxima. They were all perfectly cordial, and were having a hell of a time keeping straight faces. The professor, Storm, Scott, and Logan sat behind the podium as the students filed in, quiet and orderly and obviously making an effort. Logan caught Rogue's eyes as she walked in beside Bobby. She looked uneasy, but Logan gave her a little smile and a nod, which she returned. 

When all the students – only about 30 of them – were seated and quiet the elegantly dressed and coiffed woman stepped up to the podium. "Good morning," she began. "My name is Katherine Libby. I am here to speak with you on behalf of the Humans First organization. Humans First is a group of concerned parents, teachers, business men, everyone, really, who are worried about the growing threat of mutants. I'm sure you've all heard of these abominations and the attacks by them on innocent humans. Mutants are unnatural, and action should be taken against them." 

Interested smiles became frozen on faces, concealing disgust, as the woman reasonably encouraged her audience to irradicate the mutant populations. She used genetic blow-ups of DNA to compare human and mutant genes. She sited examples of 'mutant aggression', including the "gang of mutant freaks who attempted to assassinate the President" and, "a frightening recent example. Two mutants attacked a high school in a small town just four days ago. One of the mutants used to go to school with them. Do you see how mutanism can twist someone into attacking their own former friends?" 

Logan and Rogue locked eyes, horrified, as she continued. "Luckily, the terrified students managed to repel the mutants with rocks and other projectiles, killing one." Logan's eyes hardened. "Always be on your guard, like they were!" her voice rang out. "Mutants are dangerous! Why, there's reports of some who can walk right through solid walls!" 

The Professor glared as there was a wave of snickers and surreptitious glances at Kitty, who had a blandly interested look on her face. The presenter didn't notice, and barrelled right on. She wound down finally around 11:30, and opened the floor to questions. Xavier prayed his students would show sense, but didn't interfere when one little girl asked in a clear, ringing voice – that could go sonar at will – "Have you ever met a mutant?" 

"Um, no, actually. Not personally," Ms. Libby said, smiling a bit uncertainly. "Anyone else? Yes?" 

"Why was Humans First started?" another boy asked. 

"Well, after the mutant attack on the UN meeting, someone decided something needed to be done," she replied. "And voila!" She looked around. "Anyone else? No? Well, then, it's been a pleasure speaking with you. You can ask your professor for information on joining the local faction. Thank you." She stepped away, and Professor X wheeled forward. "You're dismissed. Remember, classes begin, as usual, at one." he nodded. "Have a good lunch." He turned to face the activist. "Ms. Libby, would you care to join myself and the staff for lunch, and then perhaps a tour of the campus?" 

"I'd be honoured," she said brightly. Scott and Logan led the way silently, hiding twin smirks, the Professor and Ms. Libby just behind. Storm left with an apology, saying she would get Kurt to bring up some lunch to the Professor's study for all of them. 

"Kurt?" the activist inquired when Storm was gone. 

"A recent addition to the staff," Professor X replied. "Kurt Wagner. He will be our new German teacher and provide some religious instruction to the children. He's also a wonderful cook." 

"I would love to meet him," she bubbled, and Logan almost cracked up. "It's important for children to have a good religious education, especially in a small school like this." 

Storm hurried up behind them, and Logan saw a stray wisp of blue smoke dissipate from her hair. "Lunch will be about half an hour," she said demurely. "Maybe a bit longer." She looked meaningfully at the Professor. "Kurt suggested you take a walk around the grounds. He'll lay it out on the patio." 

"That sounds lovely, Storm," Professor X said, face perfectly straight. "Ms. Libby?" 

"Oh, that sounds wonderful!" 

Logan pitied her. So young, so perky, so horribly prejudiced. He couldn't to see those prejudices collapse on her. He didn't have to wait long. 

"Professo~or!" Kitty's voice rang out as she burst into the corridor ahead of them – through a solid wall. "Slinky's sparking me!" 

A door opened and a little boy with static-y hair came sliding out into the hall. He had a wicked little grin on his face and was tossing a pillar of crackling energy between his hands like a slinky. 

"Karl!" The Professor snapped as Kitty squeaked and ducked behind his chair. "Leave Kitty alone." 

"Yes, sir." The energy disappeared, but not the grin. Karl remained there until they had passed, Kitty clinging to Scott's hand. As soon as she passed, Slinky flicked a small ball of energy. She shrieked and turned, phasing through Scott – and Ms. Libby – to get at him. As they disappeared around the far corner, Kitty chasing Slinky, the adults were careful to keep bland expressions on their faces 

The activist blinked a few times in shock. "Did they just –" 

"Oh yes," the Professor said. "Karl is quite the little prankster. I'm afraid Kitty only provokes him." 

Logan held open the door to the garden, and grinned at the sight. Everyone was outside. The first thing they passed was the basketball court, and the traditional 'no powers' was most definitely suspended. Ms. Libby stopped dead, open-mouthed, as superspeed, levitation, extra-long tongues, and the occasional earthquake gave unfair advantage. Following the lead of the Professor, Logan and Scott made no mention of the powers, only their human traits. Scott also took her by the arm and, under the guise of civility, forcibly propelled her along. As they continued, their walk, Logan watched as students ran across their path, powers on full display. Scott really did pity her. She really had no ideas of what mutants were truly like – human. 

The patio came in sight and Rogue and Bobby were laying out plates and accoutrements. Scott steered her to a chair and she sat down, unconsciously crossing her legs and trying to regain her composure. 

"Something to drink?" the Professor asked cordially. 

"Yes, thank you," she said faintly. Rogue poured a glass of fruit juice and handed it to her. 

"Oh, let me give you a hand," Bobby said, reaching over and nicely chilling it. She stared, wide-eyed with horror, first at the glass, and then at the serenely smiling teenager, and back at the glass. She blinked, shook her head, and took a cautious sip. 

"Kurt says it's almost done," Rogue said softly. "We've already eaten." 

"Enjoy!" Bobby trilled as they walked away, hand in hand. 

The activist took a long drink, cleared her throat, and said, "Professor, I'm not sure I –" 

*_bampf_* "Perfect timing!" Kurt declared, depositing his tray on the table. *_bampf_!* He reappeared by her chair, took her hand, bowed deeply, and said, "Kurt Wagner, at your service." 

She promptly fainted. 

*** 

Kurt had stretched the unconscious activist on one of the common room sofas and was patting a damp cloth on her forehead when her eyes fluttered open. They stretched wide in shock as Kurt ginned toothily at her. "Guten tag, frauline," he said pleasantly. 

She tried to bolt upright, but Logan's hands on her shoulders restrained her. "Easy there," he grunted. "Stop tauntin' the lady, Kurt," he said pointedly. 

"A thousand apologies, Miss," he said, perfectly cordial, and stepped away. 

Professor X rolled up beside her and leaned over, steepling his fingers. "Feeling better? I hope we haven't given you too much of a shock." 

"What are you?" she said asked weakly. 

"I should think that would be obvious, my dear." She sat up slowly as he leaned forward. We're mutants, his voice whispered in her mind. She looked around at the adults and two teenagers in the room. Her eyes lighted on the two men who had escorted her through the school, and overlayed on her thoughts were images of a beam of dangerous light blasting through a door and slashing claws and rapid-healing wounds. She glanced at the black woman, and saw tornados ripping through the sky. She gave a whimper and buried her face in her hands. 

"It's all right, my dear," Professor X said kindly. "Do we look like dangerous murderers to you?" 

"No!" she burst out, suddenly looking much younger. "But you're supposed to!" 

"Not all mutants are baddies," Storm said, moving smoothly to sit beside her and put a comforting hand on her arm. "Just like humans." 

The woman sniffed. "I-I've never met a mutant. Not really. I saw the Experiment once, but just a glance . . ." 

"The Experiment?" Professor X asked sharply? 

"A-a mutant. The board keeps it. I don't know why." Her eyes widened. "My god! That poor thing. I never realized . . ." 

"That it was a person, like you?" The Professor finished gently, but inside his mind was racing as he wondered who it was, what their power was, why they were there, and why Cerebro hadn't alerted him. But her thoughts fluttered on the edge of his awareness. Her mind was racing as she fought to reconcile what she had been told and taught about mutants and the children of the school. The monsters of the attacks, and the (not very good) basketball players. 

"So . . . all the stories, are wrong?" she said hesitantly. "The UN meeting, the White House thing, that attack on the high school . . ." 

"The UN summit was the work of a mutant," Professor X clarified. "A man called Magneto. He was stopped." 

Kurt _bampf_ed into view at his side, and she gave an involuntary start. "I'm afraid the White House was my little escapade," he said apologetically. "A little warning." He blinked. "I think." 

"The high school . . .?" she blushed suddenly. "I'm sorry, I have to know." 

"They started it," Logan snarled. 

"You –" she gasped. 

"Logan . . ." Rogue said, a bit plaintively. 

"Rogue was sittin' there," he continued, oblivious to the girl's increasing agitation, "In front of her old high school. Sitting. Quietly. Then those kids come out and start chucking rocks at us. She didn't fight back, just kept talkin' to her friends -" 

"Logan, stop it!" Rogue cried. 

"- and they they almost killed her," he continued over her protests. "A chunk of concrete and glass, sticking out her spinal column as she walked. Not because she's a mutant. Because those teenage kids have been molded by the likes of you." 

Rogue had collapsed in on herself, wrapping her arms around her stomach as she hunched over against the wall. The HF representative looked sickened, and there were varying degrees of shock on the faces in the room. Logan snarled finally and turned away from the activist. 

"I'm sorry, Rogue," he said softly as he moved to stand beside her, "But she had to see." He patted her gently on the shoulder, squeezing it comfortingly, and after a moment she slowly nodded assent. 

There was silence in the room for a long moment. Then Professor X rolled forward. "Please forgive your rather rude shock, Ms. Libby," he said gravely. "But we felt it was neccessary. Scott will escort you out." 

Shakily, she nodded. "Y-you were very hospitable. I - you gave me something to think about. Lots to think about, actually." She stood slowly, then wavered. Scott hurried forward and offered his arm. She stared at it for a moment, hesitating, then reached out and took it, as if she wasn't sure it wouldn't suddenly turn into a nest of writhing snakes. Scott smiled at her, turning on every ounce of charm he had, and she smiled back a little timidly. 

When they were gone, Xavier sighed. "To think how many poor men and women were brainwashed like this one was. This is why we're fighting a losing battle." He shook his head, as if to banish melancholy thoughts. "Oh well. The memory of this place's location will fade from her mind in an hour, but she'll remember what she saw here, and hopefully that will start some change." 

"Professor," Storm said from the sofa, "Who is this Experiment? Why haven't you found him or her on Cerebro?" 

"I don't know, Storm," Xavier said. "I don't know." To be continued . . . 


	5. Part V

It Takes All Types 

Part V: Wherein Scott and Logan Finally Get It On, Logan Becomes a Father, and Scott and Logan Get It On Again 

**Author's Note:** Well, sorry about the long absence, folks. We're back and slashier than ever. Oh yeah, you heard me. It's on now. And I don't pretend to know anything about the legal system or how one is adopted. I'm making it all up – it's a story, I'm an author, it's called artistic licence. What I'm not pulling out of my butt are Logan and Rogue's names: Logan was born James Howlett in the comic canon, and Rogue's movie persona's last name is D'Ancanto. I didn't check comic book canon. 

Scott was tired. More tired than he had been in a long time. The kind of bone-deep tired that was almost painful. As soon as the Humans First representative had left the school, the Professor had wheeled himself into Cerebro and hadn't left. While Logan had peeled out of here on the motorbike, set to cover the local area, he and Storm had jumped into the X-Jet and taken off. They had been in motion ever since, two days ago, combing every inch of the country to no avail. They used every mutant contact they knew. Cerebro could find nothing. They could find nothing. Every mutant was present and accounted for – except for those they hadn't expected to find, Magneto and his motley crew. No one knew anything about a missing mutant, any kind of laboratory. Scott was on the verge of flying the Jet into the Humans First headquarters and razing the building floor to floor to find the Experiment, and Logan was growlingly supportive, when the Professor called them home. The students were panicked at the sudden withdrawal of all the teachers, wondering what had gone wrong, if the Humans First woman had ratted on them. If they were in danger. 

Scott and Storm staggered into the mansion in the middle of the afternoon. Heads poked around doors as they went – there had been no classes. Logan was coming in from the garage, met them at the foot of the stairs. His omnipresent stubble now had the look of a full-on beard. They didn't need to meet the Professor in his office to know that there had been no luck, but still they went; he just wanted to check that they were all in one piece and send them off to bed. Storm left them at her room, but Logan walked Scott to his quarters. The myopic mutant didn't have the restorative powers that Logan did, and Logan saw that Scott was on the verge of collapse. And he was right. One step up to the stairs and Scott almost swooned. Logan caught him around the waist, hitching him up on his hip. 

"You okay?" he asked gruffly. 

"S'okay," he murmured, resting his head on Logan's shoulder. "M'just tired, s'all." 

Logan grunted and half-carried, half-dragged the other man up the short flight of stairs and down the hall to his room, the room that used to be shared with Jean. They stood awkwardly at the door, Scott leaning against the doorframe and trying to make it look like he wasn't. Something was clearly on his mind, because he was chewing on his lip. And Logan realised with a catch in his breath that his thoughts were probably along the same lines of his. And he wasn't sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing. But it was a thing, and Logan never had been one for consequences. He stepped inside the room and closed the door behind them. 

They stood there and stared awkwardly at each other for a long moment. Logan remembered an equally awkward moment with Jean before her death. Jean loomed large in this room, in this moment. 

"This is something we both want," Scott said softly, his sunglasses obscuring his eyes and his emotions – Logan had never realised how harsh that could be. 

"Yeah," he replied. 

Scott opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again. He took a single, wobbly step towards Logan. Logan stepped the rest of the way, one large hand coming to rest on Scott's arm, hanging limply at his side. Scott leaned forward. Logan leaned forward. They met somewhere in the middle, with a tentative, closed kiss, lips straight and unyielding, no pressure, and pulled away as hastily. Scott swallowed hard, his lips parting for air, and Logan dove. With a snarl in the back of his throat, he kissed Scott roughly, the only way he knew how. With Logan, everything was rough. As the song went, he hadn't learned tenderness. With Logan, nothing was done in half-measures. And Scott responded in kind. Their personalities had always clashed, both too autonomous, too controlled. They tried to control each other in this kiss, dominate. In the end they had to share the kiss, tongues caressing rather than duelling, lips worshiping rather than ravaging. It may have been a short kiss. It may have been a long kiss. It was one of those timeless, worldless kisses that always seemed to last forever and end too quickly. This one ended with Scott sagging against Logan, his sunglasses an odd sensation pressing against his neck. 

"You need to sleep," Logan said shakily. The conflicting, confusing emotions were back. He stepped away, leaving Scott to sway blearily on his feet, turned on his heel, and stalked out. He went right to his room and collapsed on to the bed, face-first. He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling until his own fatigue got the better of him and he drifted off, still fully clothed. 

They didn't feel fully human (fully mutant?) until the morning of the second day that they had returned. The teachers tried to achieve some sense of normalcy, but with the older students pulled out of class for intense training with Logan in the danger room, and the newly completed perimeter sensors and defences, it was hard to do. The students coped remarkably well. They didn't act up, they helped out, they tried to be as normal as they could. And nothing happened. Humans First kept on soapbox showboating, but their initial impetus had worn off. Few new members joined, and they limited themselves mainly to letter-writing and peaceful demonstrations. In fact, the world of politics was suspiciously quiet. Well, not quite suspiciously quiet, but almost that quiet. 

It was when they had showered and slept and generally recovered that Logan and Scott met again, in their midnight retreat of the cool, tiled kitchen. The moon was full and bright, streaming through the bay window, so they didn't bother with the lights. They stood, barefoot and shirtless, in the middle of the kitchen, just looking at each other. Silvery moonlight on reddish glasses made them look purple, and Logan wished he could see beyond them. They kissed, bathed in moonlight, arms sliding over worn fabric and bare skin, drawing comfort from the other. They didn't talk. They had done all their talking before, stretched over iterant nights of a la mode and alcohol. There was no need for talking now. They would talk later, but for now all they did was explore. Tongues explored mouths, hands explored bodies, soul explored soul. Logan found it odd, the sensation of the sunglasses, smooth and cool where there should have been skin. Scott found it odd, the bristle of stubble under his fingers, his cheek, his lips. 

They stopped just short of a further intimacy. Both were physically ready, their bodies straining almost painfully for each other, breath quickening and veins pounding, but they stopped. Scott had to be careful, or he could inadvertently rip holes in the school. Logan had to be careful, or he could inadvertently rip holes in Scott. So they made out like horny teenagers whenever they got the chance, and more often than not night found them curled around each other in Logan's bed. That was how Rogue found them one morning when they had inadvertently overslept. She had bounced into Logan's room after the barest of knocks, nervous and excited. 

"Logan, they've – oh my god!" She clapped her hands over her mouth as she skidded to a halt. Logan was awake in a second, Scott somewhat behind him. He growled, glancing around wildly, pulling the sheet up even though he was decently clothed in a pair of sweatpants. He rolled off the bed, reaching around Rogue to shut the door. "Oh my god," she repeated, eyes as big and round as saucers, as Scott finally got with the program and sat up in the bed, looking suitably embarrassed. 

"Look, kid, this is not . . ." Logan started, then realised that what he was saying was a lie. "Me and Scott . . ." That didn't work either. "We're a pair of . . ." Goddammit! "Kid, this has got nothin' to do with you." 

"Oh my god," Rogue said for a third time, her mouth gaping open. "You . . . he . . . you and Scott . . ." She gaped a few times, soundlessly. "My world is rocked." 

Logan looked at her with concern. "Are you gonna be okay?" 

"I think so," she said faintly. "I mean, I'd be kind of a hypocrite if I wasn't, right?" 

"I, uh, I'm just going to go . . ." Scott murmured, twitching his t-shirt straight. "You two can talk." 

"Coward," Logan muttered as he fled the room, and ran a hand through his hair, pacing in a small circle. "Okay, kid, so . . . yeah. Me and Scott. Don't spread it around, will ya?" 

She shook her head solemnly, sitting down rather hard on the edge of the bed. "Wow. You and Scott. You are so wrong for each other – and yet so right." 

"Yeah, well, we're still workin' things out," he said gruffly, slightly embarrassed. "Nothin's set." He jumped topics abruptly. "You wanted to tell me something?" 

"Oh!" she said, startled. "Oh. Right. They've set the date for the custody hearing. Thursday. You and Professor Xavier are going to be interviewed by a social worker and a judge. Well, and me, too, since I'm over 16." 

"Hey, that's great, kid!" Logan said, and he meant it. "Wait. I'll have to shave again, won't I?" 

Rogue had to laugh at his expression. "Yeah. Last time, I promise." 

"Well, that's a comfort," he muttered. "Now get out of here so I can change. I'll catch up to you later." 

She nodded and hopped off the bed, but paused by the door to give him one last speculative look, shaking her head. "Oh. My. God," she murmured, and was gone. 

Logan fought the irrational urge to throw something at the door after her retreating back. 

Thursday came quickly. Very, very quickly. By the time the hearing rolled around, word had leaked and the entire school knew what was up. Apparently the entire school also knew that Logan would be shaving for this momentous occasion, which meant that the entire school had managed to be in the entrance hall when he made his grand entrance that morning. He folded his arms and scowled, but that didn't diminish the effect of his crisp cream shirt and black pants, and the clean-shaven face. He had even made an attempt to flatten his hair – not that it had worked. But the attempt was nice. Rogue had dressed sedately, neatly, the antique white gloves matching her outfit and looking only slightly out of place with her uncharacteristically long sleeves. 

There was a wave of snickers and 'ooohs' as they descended, and Logan's glare did nothing to quell them; it may have even exacerbated them. There was such a chorus of appreciative murmurs that Logan stopped and did a bit of a turn, a smirk on his face. Kitty mimed swooning. Even Professor X was smirking when he emerged from the elevator. "Logan, Rogue, are you ready to go?" 

"Yeah," he said, hurrying through the crowd of students with Rogue on his heels. Scott followed them to help the Professor into the car, taking Logan's arm when both the others had been settled, sharing a long look. 

"Good luck," Scott said softly. 

"Thanks," Logan replied, patting his hand, wishing they could do more. Rogue knew, the Professor probably did know or would before long, but neither felt right. 

There was a tense, nervous silence in the car on the long drive into the city, where the hearing would take place. Well, there Logan and Rogue were tense and nervous. Professor X was as calm as ever. Logan was fairly sure there was nothing that could make him lose that serene veneer that was part of his own special brand of intimidation. He sat beside Logan as he drove, shuffling through the papers necessary, the notarised copy of the commendation, Logan's forged identification and the paperwork hiring him at the school, as well as character references from Storm and Scott; Rogue's birth certificate was also in the batch. He had no intention of using his powers of persuasion to sway the judge in favour of Logan; if Logan was deemed unsuitable, he was unsuitable. Xavier was a great believer in the legal system, even if didn't favour his children, his students. 

The social worker – or Children's Aid Advocate, as her official title was – was one of those short, stocky women who looked like they would have fit in equally well in the bullpen of the local police department or the front of a kindergarten class. Her close-cropped hair was dyed a deep auburn, and grey eyes managed to sparkle sternly at them, surrounded by the creases of laugh lines and a little bit of age. The judge was an older black man, who looked slightly pouchy and dishevelled, as if he had just woken up from a fitful sleep, with an air of deep abstraction. He greeted them with a rather fishy handshake; the advocate's was firm. They were introduced as Judge Greenwood and Mrs. Colby. 

"So, I understand that Marie's parents have put her up for adoption," Judge Greenwood said, flipping open the file on his desk. "Doesn't give any specific reason here." He looked at them over the rim of non-existent glasses. "Is there a specific reason that has any bearing on this hearing?" 

"No, I can assure you there is not," Xavier said serenely. 

"Alright, Miss D'Ancanto, you do realise that you have no legal say in this matter," he continued, "But I do wish to know your opinion. I trust you are fully aware of the situation, and the two options available?" 

She nodded. "Yes, sir." 

"Well, then, which would you prefer?" he said, folding his hands on the desk and looking straight at her. 

She looked slightly taken aback at the direct question. "I, uh, well, the Logan one. Option. Being adopted by Logan." 

"Why?" 

She glanced down at her gloved hands. "Because I want to be someone's daughter, not just a building's ward. I want to be Logan's daughter." 

He nodded slowly, thoughtfully. "Mr. Xavier, you and Mr. Howlett are, technically, in competition for the custody of Miss D'Ancanto. Who do you feel would make a more suitable guardian?" 

"I believe that Logan would be a better parent," Xavier said, stressing the last word. "No matter what happens, Marie will remain at the school – we're like an extended family all ready. However, I believe that she would benefit from having a legal father rather than, as she said, a building. Buildings can change ownership – I don't see it happening, but it is possible." He paused. "Logan is a good man, and he cares for Marie in a way that I never could." 

Logan ducked his head, resisting the urge to growl something deprecating. Judge Greenwood gave that same slow nod and leaned back, obviously finished. Mrs. Colby took over. 

"Mr. Howlett," she said, her voice the firm but soothing, attractive tenor of a schoolteacher, "I see from your file that you had no permanent employment before being hired about a year ago by the Xavier Institute. What is the reason for that?" 

How to phrase this, how to phrase this . . . "I was a member of the Canadian military before that," he decided on, not technically a lie. "Division top-secret, classified. When I got out, no one would take me on for long because it looked like I hadn't had a real job in my whole life. The Professor here took the chance." 

"And an excellent one it was, too," Xavier put in, emphasising the point with a small shake of his hand. "Logan has been indispensable around the school. I don't know how we got along without him." 

Mrs. Colby's lips were still a bit too thin, but she seemed to accept that explanation. "Well, you have no criminal record. And a recommendation from Marie's father. Obviously Marie is fond of you. And I am of the opinion that a school does not make a proper guardian for a child, even one so obviously mature as Marie here." She glanced at Judge Greenwood. "I've run the proper background checks. Immigrated to the United States from Canada five years ago –" I did? Logan thought "- and has been clean ever since. I am relieved that she is going to remain at the school, though. I have no objection." 

"Nor do I," the judge said, with a note of finality. He opened a drawer in his desk, flipping through the hanging folders until he found the one he needed. "Ah, here we go. Mr. Howlett, I need you to sign here. Mr. Xavier can act as guarantor, Mrs. Colby witnessed, and we'll have all the paperwork to you sometime in the next two weeks." He smiled at them as Logan, relieved, scrawled his name. "Congratulations." 

"Thank you, sir," Rogue said softly, shaking his hand as they stood. 

"Thanks," Logan said roughly, seizing his hand and pumping it firmly, doing the same to Mrs. Colby, who looked surprised and rather gratified. 

Xavier chuckled. "Come along, Logan, Marie. I believe this calls for a celebration." And with great dignity he rolled from the room. 

The school was asleep when they got back. Xavier had treated them to dinner and regaled them with fond stories of Storm and Scott when they were younger, of all the students before the mutant-human conflict had gotten so dark. Logan ruffled Rogue's hair affectionately when they parted ways in the dark hallway, almost bouncing on the balls of his feet. He had never felt this inexplicably happy. As he moved soundlessly through the halls, a door opened abruptly and Scott stood there, silhouetted against the moonlight streaming through his window. Wordlessly, he backed up a step and Logan slipped into the room, shutting the door softly behind him. 

"So, how'd it go?" Scott asked, his voice neutral – it was unlucky to be too excited about something. 

Logan was fully aware just how goofy the grin on his face must have looked. "I'm going to be a father." 

Scott broke into a wide grin, one of the first Logan had seen since . . . since. "That's great! Rogue must be happy." 

"Yeah, she is," Logan replied. He turned away, unable to stay still, full of excited jitters, running a hand through his hair. "I can't believe it. Me. A dad. With responsibilities. I never . . . I mean, I don't seem the type, do I?" 

"Actually," Scott thought, tilting his head to one side, considering. "You do. Sort of." 

Logan rounded on him. "Say what?" 

"Well, not in the minivan and t-ball kind of way," Scott said, waving one hand for emphasis. "More like the protective mother-bear, supportive kind of way." 

Logan peered at him with narrowed eyes. "Was that a compliment." 

"Definitely," Scott replied, but ruined it a second later by adding, "I think." He paused. "It's also . . . kind of sexy." 

It was the first time either of them had acknowledged their physical attraction to the other. Logan stared hard at Scott. Scott stared hard at the floor. Logan moved slowly towards Scott, gathering him into his arms, and lowered his mouth to cover his. This was a different kind of kiss. This kiss had a purpose, a direction. An into bed sort of direction. Which terrified both of them, especially as they tumbled into the broad bed, amidst the rumpled sheets, hands reaching for each other's clothing. 

Cue a tasteful fade to black. To be continued . . . 


End file.
